What's Mine is Mine
by Hikari Bara
Summary: Shiki comes home to a familiar scene with an unexpected twist.


What's Mine is Mine

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><p>Summary: Shiki comes home to a familiar scene with an unexpected twist.<p>

Quick A/N: Just going to say I probably suck at smut, so if you like your R-rated scenes in high quality I suggest you don't get your hopes up with this c:

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><p>Akira smirked up from his position atop the silky sheets of a bed that didn't belong to him. His expression was met with the slight quirk of a pair of unfamiliar lips from the man kneeling above him as he ushered his impressive length into Akira's mouth; in which Akira took with haste, imagining how it would feel only minutes from then, deep inside him. This man in particular—he believed his name was Takara—was slightly different from men he'd seduced before. He wasn't as timid, as animalistic as the others had been, driven by fear and repressed desire. No, this man's persona, it was almost like—<p>

A loud bang that echoed outside the bedroom door down in the main hallway interrupted Akira's train of thought.

_That would be the front doors, _Akira mused, taking Takara back in his mouth to resume his suckling, working it up to a nice hardness. He didn't have to actually think about the act, though. He'd preformed blowjobs left and right; too many times to even bother remembering a certain technique, and could easily work up the straightest man to climax in under a single minute if he tried. In his case, though, he'd rather have men like this coming inside of him elsewhere.

He blinked as his previous thoughts slowly caught up to him. Right. Shiki was home.

Akira released Takara's length with a wet, slick popping sound. "Ah," he breathed out, blinking up endearingly at his prey, "he's back."

His words, however, acted in a way he hadn't anticipated. Takara's eyes lit up and he flipped Akira to his belly on the expensive mattress, burying the fair-haired male in silk. Suddenly, he felt a slick hardness press at his entrance.

_What, no foreplay? How boring._

He'd only barely completed his thought before searing pain erupted from deep inside him—the bastard had gone all the way in one swift thrust. A coarse moan choked its way out of Akira's throat, and he struggled to turn his head to the side so he could glimpse Takara's face in his peripheral vision. He wasn't positive, but he thought he saw a twisted smile playing about the other man's lips. He'd seen that particular face many times before, surely—but not after the man he'd been sleeping with became aware of Shiki's return.

"A-ahh!" Akira couldn't suppress his voice as Takara began to mercilessly pound into him. He sensed a hand reach around his body and grasp his own hardness, but he was all but paying any heed to that. The one thing Akira cared about was the pain blooming from deep within, the wonderful sensation that came second only to the pleasure that would soon explode from the very spot the agony flamed most intensely. Taking pleasure from the pain of sex between men was the only thing that kept Akira living—the only thing _worth _living for. After having all of his dignity stripped away by Shiki, there was virtually nothing else left for him.

His moans gradually increased in volume until he was screaming into the sweat-slicked sheets, eyes screwed shut. It was the best sex he'd gotten in a while—Shiki had been off on another long outing, doing who knew what to ensure his personal empire's absolute success. Naturally, he didn't hear the sound of a doorknob clicking, nor the promising click of boot heels on tile as a lone figure stalked up to the bedside. Takara's erratic thrusts lost their vigor for no more than half a second, but Akira knew what the sudden change in atmosphere meant, though his head was crushed into the sheets by a large palm belonging to the person he was currently having intercourse with. At some point, maybe Takara had become fed up with all the racket he'd been making—he didn't know or particularly care.

But what he _did _hear was one smooth, toxic voice ring in sharp rebuke. "Don't stop."

The sound of Shiki's voice was more than enough to send Akira over the edge after what seemed like years of being deprived of release. "Shi…ki…" he managed to choke out the man's name—the only man who could truly satisfy him—before he came on the silken sheets he was spread upon. But Takara's thrusts continued relentlessly until at some point the pleasure relapsed into pain and Akira gave a few hoarse cries before the other man finally released deep inside him. He heard a single sigh release the man's lips before the length that had been filling him was ripped out. He whimpered at the sudden loss and rolled onto his back, searching through bleary eyes to see what had disturbed him in his afterglow.

The scene before him snapped him out of his daze. _Ah, right. Shiki. _

The crimson-eyed man was already gripping Takara's neck, a silver blade pressed down directly upon his Adam's apple. It was Shiki's trademark katana.

"Welcome home, Shiki," Akira purred languorously, allowing his eyes to narrow in drowsy effect as he yawned. This scene was nothing new to him. He'd seen the same thing repeated over and over, as if his very life were stuck on replay and all he could do was let it take its course. "I missed you."

At his words, Shiki directed his attention towards Akira, pinning him in place with his bloody stare—not that he needed to glare so intently. Akira wasn't going anywhere.

"Clearly," he replied, smirking as he jerked Takara's body up by the neck in a pointed gesture. "You were a bad boy again, Akira. I'll have to punish you for that."

The corners of Akira's lips turned upwards in delight. "Please—do—" His words drawled, and he raised his arms up above his head in a full body stretch. "I'm ready for you right now, Shiki. He was kind enough to prepare me for you." Takara's eyes flicked to Akira. As of yet, he hadn't made a sound—hadn't even trembled. Akira froze mid-stretch, catching a hard glint in Shiki's eyes. Apparently, he'd noticed it too.

"You are prepared to die for intercourse with him?" Shiki's blood red eyes narrowed dangerously as they turned to glare at Takara, his tone slicing through the deadly silence of the air. For a moment, Akira was snapped out of his playful demeanor; forgot to breathe, was unable to blink. When was the last time he'd seen Shiki like this…?

"Not with him, Shiki, Sir," Takara formally addressed Shiki, as all others who worked for the man did. Akira watched in indifference as Shiki's grip on the man's throat tightened a fraction.

"Oh?"

"Sir."

"With whom, then?"

At Shiki's question, Akira smirked. Oh, so that was what it was.

"With you, Sir."

The silence that brought the room to a standstill at Takara's words was enough to have suffocated Akira. His smirk slipped right from his face, intrigued though he was. He didn't know how Shiki was going to react, and with even more certainty didn't know whether he'd like the outcome of this unforeseen development.

After endless moments passed, the luxurious room filled with unspoken, dark menace, Shiki made his move. He jerked his katana away from the brunette's neck, glaring at him all the while as he sheathed the blade.

"You had sex with Akira for such a reason?" Shiki's tone suggested neither malicious intent nor acceptance. His visage wore an expression devoid of all emotion; Akira had seen this look of Shiki's a number of times, but barely enough to count on two hands. Ah, so that was it. Shiki was beyond enraged. But this kind of fury brought Akira little pleasure. Since he'd encountered Shiki in such a state only on the rarest of occasions, he was still in the dark as to how he'd address the topic at hand. The topic being how Takara would die, and the events that would transpire before and afterwards.

Takara's only hint of intimidation, if it was one at all, was a single gulp. "Yes, Sir. I've always been watching you. I have been your bedroom guard for a few weeks now…and even before that I'd heard rumors of your relationship with…_him…_" Takara turned his head to Akira for the first time since Shiki had entered his bedroom, golden eyes darkening in some intense emotion Akira couldn't depict. "And I…I found myself wanting to be him."

Again, silence followed Takara's words. But the stifling moment didn't last long; Shiki's lips slowly contorted into a wry smile and a deep chuckle escaped his fine-cut lips. "_You _want to be Akira. _My_ Akira. Insolence." Akira's blue eyes widened as the grin slipped from Shiki's lips without warning and the air surrounding them seemed to drop twenty degrees. "Have you ever stopped to think why I would ever hold another person, you fool?" He didn't elaborate any more than that, but his words sliced through the air as if they were icicles. "Why I would ever care for bodily contact with another human being? Answer me, fool," Shiki hissed as he slammed the other man forward onto the bed, not releasing the iron grip on Takara's throat and in consequence, landed on top of him. Not that it seemed to matter to Shiki, in any case; Akira watched as livid, cerise eyes narrowed.

Takara's Adam's apple fluctuated as he lay on his back, completely vulnerable to the person many viewed as a god. Akira finally sat up, his feathers slightly ruffled; it had been ages since he'd seen Shiki angered to such an extent. "Sh-Shiki…" he murmured, blinking in rapid succession when eyes of blazing crimson turned on him. "Shiki, don't you think this is a little…" He couldn't bring himself to finish. Not with those eyes boring into his soul with unrelenting hatred. He honestly wondered what had set Shiki off—he knew that Akira wasn't solely loyal to him when it came time for Shiki to leave the Palace. And he'd slain far too many subordinates that had violated both Akira and Shiki's rule for him to be upset about such a thing now.

"You think this is too much, _Akira?_" The fair-haired man flinched at Shiki's icy undertone. "You think he shouldn't receive punishment for his…" His eyelids slowly lidded closed, concealing his red rage for mere moments. "…his _impudence._" The word was breathed out, barely hemming in his obvious and sudden fury at the situation. Was he mad that the man asked to have sex with Shiki? Was that what this powerful, unequaled man standing before him was becoming flustered over? "Well then, Akira." Glacial words ripped him from his thoughts, and Akira was presented a scene he had least expected. Shiki's hands were at the collar of Takara's uniform, undoing each golden button with deliberate, unhurried flicks of his fingers. "I have a special kind of punishment in store for you. The both of you," he added, casting a disinterested glance over his shoulder at Takara, who was trembling so slightly Akira wondered if he was concealing a laugh.

But still Akira watched, horrified, as Shiki stripped the other man clean of his clothes. "What is your name," Shiki snapped, his tone suggesting that his words were not a question but an order.

"Takeo," the man breathed. "Saito Takeo."

"I see. Are you native to Toshima?" The question hung suspended in the air for eons before a small, almost non-existent chuckle blew past humorless lips. Shiki's fingers were at the man's—Takeo, apparently—waistband. Red eyes flicked sideways to lock with a stunned blue pair, but quickly returned their gaze to the surprised but unflustered man lying before him. "Make some nice sounds for Akira."

In less than an instant, Takeo was stripped bare and legs were pushed up to the point where his knees could almost touch his shoulders. Immediately afterward, Shiki shoved his way inside the man without so much as a blink.

A scream ripped through the bedroom, echoing throughout the Palace. It was all Akira could do to sit and watch through unseeing eyes as Shiki pounded with merciless vehemence into the man lying below him, tears already streaming from the edge of bright, tormented eyes and soaking the bed sheets.

Akira didn't blink. He didn't breathe. He forgot how to do all of those things…or perhaps he wouldn't dare to. All he knew was that Shiki was beyond angry with him, and was hurting him in the strongest way—the only way—possible. The one thing left to Akira was sex with Shiki, after all. And now he was watching the very meaning of his life becoming one with another.

"N…no…" Akira didn't hear his pathetic stutter of a protest, didn't feel his lips fumble to form words. "Shiki…no…stop…" Distantly, he felt his eyes mist over, and he sat in numb incomprehension as moisture marked steady tracks down his pale cheeks. He felt as if he were drained of all his energy; he couldn't move, couldn't close his eyes to block out the evil sight before him.

"Shi…ki…" He felt his throat constrict as countless tears of his own overflowed and spilled, contesting in amount with those of the man being raped. Akira himself felt like he was being raped. The entirety of his existence was being sullied by this one act he had committed with countless people besides Shiki—

Wait.

Was this what Shiki wanted to tell him? Was this feeling, this heart-crushing sensation that wound itself around Akira and squeezed tightly as to seep the life out of him, was this what Shiki experienced every time he found out about Akira's treacherous escapades? Did he leave on his mandatory business trips, tightening his grip on Japan, knowing that he would come back to the very same feeling, again and again on repeat until they both descended to Hell?

"What is it, Akira?" Shiki's voice was a soft purr, not even hitching in exertion. He never fucked Akira like that, but the blue eyed boy shuddered, imagining him in Takeo's place. No, anything but that. Shiki wasn't one to always show his emotions, but their time in bed always meant something more than just a quick shot of pleasure. "Like what you see?" he continued, drilling into Takeo pointedly, tearing another scream from the man's hoarse throat.

All Akira could do was squeeze his eyes shut, finding solace in the darkness that surrounded him; the only flaw in his method being that he could still, indeed, hear just what was going on. He shook his head from side to side, slowly at first, but as he began to think about what was going on more deeply—as he began to wonder about the true meaning behind Shiki's fear-instilling tactics—he shook it to rid his head of all panicked thoughts. He didn't want this. And in a tiny corner of his brain, a voice whispered that Takeo hadn't wanted this either, stupid as he may be to reveal his true desire to someone whose soul was already dyed deep in black nothingness.

"Akira, I'm doing this for you," Shiki said; the velvety tone stirred Akira's eyelids and they slid open, blue locking gazes with crimson. "He doesn't deserve punishment, isn't that what you said, my dear Akira?"

"Stop…" A lone word accompanied by a sob choked their way out of his dry, aching throat. He felt as if he'd been the one screaming nonstop for the past few minutes instead of the man who actually possessed a reason to.

But he didn't have time to think about that. Without warning, Shiki assented to Akira's cry, halting his movements. He was still buried deep inside Takeo, but at least those terrible screams had subsided for now. Akira stared at Shiki through glass eyes, his body limp, lifeless. He didn't know what to say. He didn't _have _anything to say to the man that was his everything in absolutely every way. He just wanted this horrible nightmare to end.

"Akira…" Shiki's voice was deceptively soft. His tone light, he gave off an air as if he were coddling a child who'd been weeping over something insignificant in the grand scheme of things. "Come here."

What else could he do? He had no choice but to obey.

He crawled forward on the soft mattress, sinking in to the bed with each movement. When he was within the raven's range, a hand grasped him by the chin and crushed their lips together without ceremony. Reflexively, his eyes snapped shut; a tongue worked its way into the smaller male's mouth, finding Akira's and brushing along the wet muscle.

From what felt like a distance, Akira felt Shiki begin to move inside Takeo again. But the man's tongue never stopped twisting against his own, almost as if it were desperate to taste Akira's everything, to drain him of his own soul. And maybe that was exactly what Shiki was—desperate. Desperate to keep Akira to himself, desperate to know that the other loved him. All of this was mere speculation, but as his tongue was caught between cold lips and thoroughly sucked on, eliciting sweet moans from his formerly parched windpipe, he could only wonder if he was indeed completely off the mark. It wasn't so unbelievable, now that he thought about it.

"Mnn…" Slowly, Akira wrapped his arms around Shiki's neck, pressing their bodies flush together though Shiki was still inside Takeo, thrusting at random intervals. He eased his own tongue from captivity in Shiki's mouth only to pull at the other man's lips with his teeth, and began to suckle on Shiki's tongue, letting out small, deprived noises all the while. The raven had truly been gone for too long.

Suddenly, Akira felt a sharp jerk, and he opened his eyes to find dark crimson irises staring back in amusement. He blinked, only realizing that the taste of iron was being smothered deep inside his mouth when Shiki's tongue began to move against his again, giving painfully tender attention to the sore muscle that had been abused of Akira's own accord during Shiki's absence. He whined and swallowed on reflex, unavoidably taking some of Shiki's blood inside him. This, however, only seemed to prompt Shiki to dye Akira further in his blood, and the kiss deepened still, leaving Akira dizzy and breathing frantically through his nose as he became deprived of oxygen.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity in itself, Shiki released Akira's lips from his own. The fair haired boy was left choking and gasping, but even so, the devil wouldn't leave him be.

"Akira," Shiki's lips were at his ear, whispering gently, like they spilling sweet nothings. "I want you to prepare yourself for me. You aren't going to be getting any rest tonight."

If this had been the usual, everyday Shiki, he would have been swathed in undeniable glee at the words. But now, in this questionable time for the both of them, what did that really mean? Was what Shiki had in store for him really worth the impulsive surge of delight that overtook him at the other man's murmur?

Even with those thoughts circling around his head, he braced himself on his hands and knees, a safe distance away from both Shiki and Takeo, who were both still connected. As his fingers slid behind his body to prod at his own entrance, which was still loose to some extent due to his and Takeo's former activities, he watched Shiki rip repeatedly into the man. One finger slid in. Shiki gave a thrust. Takeo screamed, though his screams had changed in pitch and Akira had a feeling that the pain was already giving way to the force of the pleasure that was always born from sex with Shiki.

He could easily insert another finger and arched his back as he attempted to scissor himself, not able to push deep enough to provoke any form of pleasure but efficiently furthering the task of loosening himself. He now continued to watch Shiki and Takeo in something like twisted fascination. He could tell Shiki would never treat him as crudely, now that his head was clear of weighted thoughts.

Akira lost himself in a moment of focus, forgetting everything but his own fingers at his wet, dripping entrance. When a cry louder than all the others that night erupted from Takeo's lips, his head snapped up to see that both he and Shiki had come to a standstill, the raven glowering down at Takeo while the other man shut his eyes to what seemed like a wave of mind-numbing pleasure as he came with Shiki inside him. Akira figured that Shiki had also come, given their position, but the dark-haired man promptly pulled out of Takeo only half-hard.

"It was almost pleasing for a while, until you showed me your disgusting expression as you came." Akira's fingers froze at Shiki's harsh, unfiltered words. Takeo didn't seem to hear him—or didn't care. He had, after all, just had sex with what seemed like the man of his dreams. "Akira, come here."

Once again, Akira was called for. He immediately obeyed the irrefutable order, crawling forward until Shiki could grasp his shoulders and shove him into the mattress. He winced at the force of Shiki's grip, but said nothing. He deserved every ounce of pain Shiki gave him, if Shiki cared to inflict such a thing upon him to begin with. Perhaps he didn't even feel the need to bother with something as petty as simple flesh pain. At least, Akira began to think as such as firm but enticing kisses worked their way down from his neck to his shoulder.

Ah.

A moan erupted from deep within him as teeth sunk into the tender skin at the junction between neck and shoulder. White pain seemed to materialize and dance before his eyes, though a shot of crimson pleasure tainted his vision. His eyes slid shut as Shiki's tongue invaded the wound, taking its time as the tip ran over every single indent the man's teeth had made. For a moment, he wondered how his blood tasted. He wondered if Shiki liked it.

"Akira…"

Yes, this voice. The silky undertones were different from before—it betrayed the desire that lurked behind burning garnet irises; it was enough to shout to Akira loud and clear that Shiki wanted him. That he would only ever want him. And it only further confirmed Akira's own feelings, that his heart—his soul—would belong to this devil of a man, for all eternity.

"Shiki…please…" Akira didn't bat an eye at how pitiful he sounded. This was how it was—how it would always be. Every inch of his body was craving Shiki's touch, Shiki's invasion. He wanted to be violated, to be fucked senseless by this man who was drowned in countless others' blood, to be captivated all over again by those red, red eyes. "Please, inside me…"

The edges of finely cut lips curled up in a familiar smirk, and strangely, a rush of nostalgia filled his chest. He recalled the first time he'd seen that smirk, years ago when he had been running about in Toshima, clueless as to what his ultimate reason of being and goal actually were. His naiveté was what had originally caused him to fall into Shiki's grasp, and he couldn't say he regretted the audacious acts of his past for a second. If everything he'd done had led him to this point in time, he believed without an afterthought of doubt that he had indeed done everything right.

"As you wish." Three heated words ghosted along the shell of his ear, and he shivered at the sensation—only to cry out as the head of something undeniably hard and hotter still nudged against his puckered entrance. He gasped as he was taken to the hilt without hesitation, the wind seemingly knocked out of him. But soon after, shudders of intense red-hot pleasure wracked his fragile, deteriorated frame, prompting harsh gasps and sweet moans to fall from his lips. Shiki fell straight into routine, thrusting for Akira's prostate without mercy, and with seasoned ease found it within moments. The pitch of Akira's pleading moans and cries rose to new heights, as he'd never been taken at such a pace immediately after his acts of treason. Shiki normally started things off at a painfully slow rate, slowly building momentum until Akira didn't know whether he was feeling pain or pleasure or both anymore.

But this, this was different. The small twinge of pain that had nagged at him from the corner of his mind had disappeared completely at Shiki's strong thrusts, and his arms thrashed about empty air in desperate need of something to cling to. He eventually hooked himself to Shiki's neck, pulling himself up with every last ounce of consciousness and strength he still possessed, and melded his lips with the other man's. At first, Shiki seemed surprised, but he let Akira do as he pleased with his mouth as he focused on etching his very essence deep within the fair haired boy.

Having free reign over Shiki's lips, Akira bit and pulled on the raven's lower lip, breathing shallowly through his nose. His heart threatened to pound its way out of Akira's chest, to bare everything for Shiki to see. He felt his own length become slick with precum, but he didn't bother to touch it. Shiki had trained him as such—he wasn't allowed to come by hand in the man's presence. It was always only Shiki who allowed him release. To rebuke meant instant consequence, and Akira knew firsthand how horrible Shiki's consequences could be.

An uncharacteristically crude jerk of Shiki's hips brought Akira back to reality. "Look at me, Akira." The demand forced Akira's eyelids to slide open on impulse, and it was only then that he realized that his cheeks were once again wet with tears. This was different from his previous bout of waterworks, though—these were born from a completely different emotion.

"Shi…ki…Shiki…" He moaned Shiki's name aloud, not paying any heed to the way it reverberated about the walls and could easily be heard by anyone making their way in the outside halls; he never had. Takeo's presence in the room was already long-forgotten, and he released his death grip on Shiki's neck to plop back down on the mattress, letting exhaustion and pleasure overtake him.

Shiki's thrusts became gradually faster, until Akira's throat had gone hoarse from screaming as his prostate was hit with each and every jerk of Shiki's hips. His lower body was splattered in precum, and Akira could feel himself nearing the edge with every push and pull of Shiki's body. In place of his arms, he hooked his legs around Shiki's neck, blinking contradictive tears out of his eyes as he ushered Shiki's length impossibly deeper inside him. Time stopped as Shiki froze for a moment, but an innocently questioning gaze from Akira pulled the raven out of his haze. He gripped Akira's slender hips, forcing the boy to take in more and more of him still, and Akira finally felt himself lose to white-hot ecstasy as he came all over both himself and Shiki, his ass clenching upon reflex around Shiki's pulsing member.

Shiki leaned forward, clashing lips to drink in all of Akira's screams. He continued to swallow each of the boy's moans even as his own icy resolve shattered as he spilled his essence deep within Akira. The smaller male squirmed at the feeling of being filled with the foreign but not unfamiliar fluid, but didn't allow Shiki to take his lips away. He sought Shiki's tongue and, upon catching it lightly between front teeth, bit down playfully to draw a small amount of blood.

In retaliation, Shiki withdrew both from his mouth and from inside him, causing Akira to shiver as a feeling of emptiness invaded his body.

Akira hadn't expected that. Panicked once again, his thoughts stumbled over themselves to find something to say. "Shiki, I…" he began to try to explain himself, to somehow comfort the man who was now staring at him with blank crimson orbs, but he didn't know exactly which string of words out of all he could utter would bring the man peace of mind. The best he could do was simply stare up and hope that everything he wished he could say was portrayed upon his face—Shiki always said Akira's emotions played too easily on his features, after all.

But there was no response. Swiftly, before Akira could even guess as to what was happening, Shiki unsheathed his katana and slashed it through the air a single time. It had hit its target.

Low gurgling sounds trickled from where Takeo had lain. Wordlessly, Shiki returned the katana to its sheath, the metallic sound scraping against Akira's eardrums.

"Scum of the earth…" Akira thought he heard Shiki mutter something. Not towards him; he was glaring at Takeo's corpse with eyes filled to the brim with intense hatred.

The hope he had held of somehow getting through to Shiki withered away. He couldn't bring himself to even say anything. All he could do was lay there in wait of whatever course of action Shiki felt like taking towards him. Would he be killed swiftly like Takeo? Or would he be tortured to death for all his acts of disloyalty towards the man standing before him?

But what Shiki did a moment later went nothing along those lines. Akira felt a strong arm wrap around his torso and pull him close, his limp body easily succumbing to fit flush against Shiki's chest.

"Akira…please…" Shiki breathed the words through tightly pressed lips. Akira was now being crushed against Shiki, as if he wanted to meld Akira into him permanently. "Never again, Akira…"

The raven's words were clipped short, different from the sophisticated way he was used to the other man addressing him by. In that instant of abandon, Akira threw himself onto Shiki, toppling the other man over and into a steadily growing pool of blood that stained the sheets the color of Shiki's eyes.

Without the other man's say-so, his lips were searching fervently for another pair—the lips that were oh so painfully familiar to him now, lips that were ice to the touch but left burns wherever they touched Akira's body. Having sought out the other man's mouth, he tangled tongues with him, more desperate than ever to taste and please him. He was rolled to the side with a harsh jolt but not even a moment passed before lips were locked again and Akira was pinned below Shiki, already moaning and begging to be taken again then and there.

"You're mine, Akira." A barely audible whisper was heard above lascivious pants and the raw sound of skin sliding upon skin. "Don't ever forget…you're mine."

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><p>AN

Thanks for reading! This is my contribution to the Togainu no Chi fandom and fanfiction section, because it's such a goddamn good game. _/whispers that I like it even more than DMMd_

I'll probably write shit for DMMd too anyways though. And I'm currently playing Sweet Pool (or trying to play lol because I just got past the 43% mark in the translations where the English is really…err…raw..? Broken English gives me headaches orz) Anyways. I'll finish it anyways because so far the plot kicks ass. And maybe try to write some sort of fanfiction for it even if I don't post it~

I probably shouldn't even post this, because the level at which I suck at writing smut is over 9,000, but eh, what the hell.

Also lol at lame-ass-totally-cliché endings right? Right.

-Hikari-


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